Dirty Water
by blahosaurus
Summary: We who are left behind. Yuri. Oneshot.


_Dirty Water_

Haru was tired.

Tired of not knowing what the hell was going on. Tired of the MIA notices, synonyms for death. Tired of the explosions and worry that kept her awake, and the aching limbs from running away.

She was tired of pretending she didn't know how dangerous words like _eliminate_ and _Milefiore_ and _Spell_ were. Words that would almost fit better in a game, but were too cruel to be viewed as such. Tired of Japan and its slow crumbling. Tired of watching the news, and watching the faces of the people she loved. Tired of never seeing those faced again.

But most of all, Haru was tired of waiting.

"How long are we staying here again?" She asked Kyoko, who she was tending the house with. Somehow, after all these years, the two girls were still stuck on house-cleaning duty whilst the men were off. Dying.

"I don't know, Haru-chan. As long as the vacation lasts," the twenty-two-year-old replied with a smile, closing the last airproof plastic box filled with food and placing it in the fridge.

"Vacation," Haru repeated. Right. Not evacuated. Just gone on Holiday.

"I hope they come back soon. We spent all this time cooking, and I'm sure I-Pin and Lambo would appreciate it," Haru said, looking at the boxed food for a moment before closing the fridge, a wisp of cold air fluttering her skirt and long ginger hair. Haru tried not to let her mouth twist sarcastically. If she had 100 yen for every uneaten meal they had cooked, she would be rich.

"I'm sure they will," she lied, looking at Kyoko. She reminded her so much of Tsuna's mother. That expression that was so kind it was almost vacant. The way she never blamed them for leaving, not really. Her anger was always something passive and excusable. Not like Haru. These days, Haru felt like she was a potential explosion most of the time. Maybe that would explain the one time she had sex with Gokudera not that long ago, the fingers that should be seeking music finding burning, momentary noise instead.

Kyoko laughed, tilting her head slightly. No wonder Tsuna had been in love with her, Haru thought. She was so perfect. But Tsuna didn't have much time for love anymore; not the kind of love that was present in bone and skin, and in laughter and moments spent together. Tsuna's love was more like the sky, these days. Something watching over them, protecting, but always distant out of reach.

"Haru-chan is always so optimistic!" the girl complimented, and Haru gave her a practiced smile; a stretch of the lips that strained her.

She walked towards the dishwasher, opening it so that they could put the dirty dishes in the rows made for more people.

"Wait," Kyoko said and Haru watched as she rummaged through the fridge, finally pulling out a collection of glazed and screamed and fruity pastries on a plate.

"I got these from the pastry-shop nearby! I remembered that once-a-month tradition we used to have and thought that, since we're on Holiday, we might as well revisit it!" she enthused, and Haru watched her as she set them down, taking out two glasses, the milk, two other plates, like a good little housewife.

"Aren't you sick of this?" Haru asked quietly, almost as if she couldn't stop herself. Kyoko looked up.

"Of pastries?" she asked, looking faintly scandalized. Haru shook her head.

"No. Of this. This...waiting. This pretending. This little act we have going on. Pastries and dishwashers and..and just _this_," she said, a sweeping motion with her hand indicating a little of everything. Haru straightened up.

"I don't really know what you're talking about, Haru-chan. Here, have some if this one, the shop assistance recommend-"

"For God's sake stop it!" Haru exclaimed, knocking the pastry out of Kyoko's hand and grabbing her forearms. "Stop pretending you don't know what all this vacation stuff really means," she pleaded. Stop eating pastries instead of treating gun-wounds and cleaning houses instead of setting flowers on graves. Just stop.

There was a moment as silence as they looked at each other's eyes, two of a kind. The women who climbed out of the Titanic first, leaving futures and promises behind.

"Why are you doing this?" Kyoko whispered, looking away. Haru scrunched up her face, as if in pain.

"Because I'm sick of all of this. Of cooking meals that won't get eaten and nodding along with all the lies they feed us. With all the-"

"It's our duty, Haru-chan," the other girl interrupted quietly. Haru's hands gripped harder but Kyoko didn't cry out.

"Our duty? Our duty to clean and-"

"Our duty to be safe. Our duty to assure the people who are fighting that they are achieving something. To give them strength because we are uninjured. To assure them that we will root for them when things go badly, and that at the worst of it, at least they still have us."

Haru stared in shock. She loved Kyoko, she really did. After all these years of being together, she had learnt not to underestimate her, not to take her on face value. But this. This conclusion; premeditated, solid, inexcusable, was surprising. Not just the frustrated musings Haru had; not the subtle grudge of helplessness. But an actual reason; and answer. Finally.

Haru let her head drop on Kyoko's shoulder.

"I'm just...so tired of this," she whispered, confessional. Kyoko wound her arms around her.

"I know. But...we have to fight in our own way, Haru-chan," she murmured, a ghost of breath on her ear. She gripped the t-shirt beside Kyoko's hips, feeling it hitch up as she fisted it in her hands. Holding on.

"I just wish...I hope something good happens soon. I hope this isn't just...just some road leading to the end," Haru said, lifting her head, watching Kyoko's big, big eyes which were smiling and apologetic.

"Then make good things happen, Haru-chan," she whispered. There was a blink of time and silence; heavy, almost confused and lost before Haru leaned forward slightly, pressing her lips against Haru's in something that was little more than friendly. Thoughtless, neddy/ One of those things that happen for little reason more than because it has to. But Kyoko didn't lean back. Didn't even blush. She parted her lips slowly; neither shyly nor in seduction, but as if she were savouring something sweet. A once-per-month tradition.

Kyoko's hair was long and smooth and girly under Haru's threading fingers which pulled slightly at strands so that they were a little closer. She could feel the dip of her hips, one hand tracing a hip-bone that disappeared under the skirt. Kyoko slid her tongue against Haru's, pushing breasts to breasts, a hitched breath as Kyoko was pushed slightly backward, against the kitchen counter. On it. She was slimmer than Haru, who widened at the thighs. An illusion of something slight and fragile, but her bones were hard under her skin and there was no hesitance in her kisses as they panted against each other, drawing out moans. There was an air of wrongness around what they were doing, but the situation seemed to cancel the innate strangeness of it. Seemed to make the fact that two female friends were kissing, groping, searching, not as surprising as it should be.

They knocked the glasses beside the sink into the plugged water meant to rinse the cutlery, and it rippled, unnoticed by the two girls.

Just one more thing drowning in dirty water.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A/N

From the prompt 'dishwasher' from Every Dog Has Its Day. I've wanted to write Yuri for some time now, to just give it a go, and since I like writing seemingly clueless characters in more depth, I thought this would be fitting. Don't know exactly how it turned out... but you can review and let me know :3


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